


A Morning for Us Somewhere

by AmbiguousPenny



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Let the boys have a peaceful morning, M/M, Morning Sex, Post-Canon, Quentin Lives, World doesn’t need saving, after the monster, alternative universe, not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbiguousPenny/pseuds/AmbiguousPenny
Summary: Just a morning where the world doesn’t need to be saved.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	A Morning for Us Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> Posting another! Happy Saturday! :) hope you enjoy!

Waking up to a morning where the world wasn’t ending, and neither of them was possessed nor dead would always have a certain kind of novelty. In those first few moments after the peace of sleep wares itself away, shifting into something closer to dread, it always felt a little bit like drowning, like opening their eyes would only tell them a truth they didn’t want to hear. But it had been months since the world had even come close to needing saving and Eliot was waking up with Quentin tucked into his side, safe and sound, every morning and suddenly all at once life started to feel like it would be okay. 

This morning, the sun came in through their bedroom window, warm like a honey tinted blessing. Quentin had started to grow his hair out again and it fell softly in his face where it was nestled in the crook of Eliot’s neck. In the morning light, Eliot reacquainted himself with the freckles on Quentin’s bare shoulder, he never wanted to wake him, never wanted to steal these peaceful moments from him. They both still had plenty of nightmares between them. Eliot thinks that’s why the mornings feel so important to cherish, another night they’ve survived, wrapped in each other's arms, safe. Eliot lets Quentin sleep for as long as he needs, and knows that there are plenty of mornings in which Quentin returns that favor. 

Now, in the honey glow of Saturday, Quentin stirs awake against Eliot’s chest. Presses one, two, three kisses against the column of Eliot’s throat and tightens his arm where it had been wrapped around his waist, pulling himself closer, closer,  _ closer.  _

“Mmm.” He hums into Eliot’s collarbone. “Morning.” His voice is soft in the way that makes Eliot’s heart stutter and on mornings like this one he lets himself smile up to the ceiling, simply at the sound of Quentin waking up to him. It is so impossibly tender that Eliot has no choice but to cup a hand against Q’s jaw, to bring his face up to him, to slot their mouths together. Chaste, and sweet at first, tasting like sleep. A good morning kiss. 

As with any kiss on a good morning this one deepens gradually as if they have the whole day just for this. The thing about kissing one another when the world isn’t ending, is that on mornings such as this one, they really do have all day. Quentin pushes this kiss in his favorite direction, one which leads to him settled neatly on Eliot’s lap, straddling him; both of them already naked from the night before. They kiss slow and lazy, Eliot’s hands on Quentin’s hips, Quentin’s hands in Eliot’s hair. Later Q will tease him for bed head and Eliot will laugh, because laughing is easy now. 

They rock together, a steady drag of hips against hips. They never stop kissing. Eliot never remembers to imagine a moment outside of this one, a moment where they aren’t kissing, where he is not impossibly in love with the man in his lap. 

“Quentin.” He says his name like he’s learning how to breathe again. 

“El.” A needy little gasp. 

“Baby,” Eliot will never grow tired of calling Quentin that, baby, his baby, his love. “I’ve got you.” Eliot speaks softly against Quentin’s ear, lips brushing against the roughness of his stubbled jaw. 

That this could be their lives now is so unfathomable, this togetherness feels like a dream. 

Eliot cradles the curve of Quentin’s jaw in one hand and opens him up with the other. Kisses every part of his face, looks into his big tender eyes to find them swimming in love and want. Something about Quentin’s eyes on him has always carried the unique ability to make Eliot feel like for once, he is enough, even if it’s just in this never ending moment. He could be enough for Q, he could let himself be enough. 

Eliot presses in, bodies merging, he remembers like it’s the first time, that sex with Quentin always finds a way to feel like his soul is on fire. Burning together. In the morning it’s never fucking, always sleepy and slow and whispered ‘ _ I love yous’.  _ It’s the two of them, in this wet hot loop, slow like molasses, for once there is nothing to hurry for. Eliot loves to be gentle, loves to cradle his lover in his arms, loves loving him. He’s thankful to have this new chance at loving him. Always making a note on these mornings to remember to tell Q how lucky he feels. 

Even when it feels like maybe it could, nothing lasts forever. When it’s over, and the room is hot with heavy breathing, Eliot kisses him again. They just lay together, basking in the glow of everything, of the morning, of the sex, of each other. 

Quentin will get out of bed first today, will drag Eliot into the shower with him so that their hands can continue to roam for a little while longer. Eventually, Quentin’s brain will wake up, begin to wander the way it does and Eliot’s bones will remember to ache the way they’ve grown accustomed to.

But for now, it’s still morning, and the world doesn’t need saving. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you!


End file.
